so sure, Adam thought to himself. And then said aloud, “Toni, you can’t imagine the heartache I encounter every day. I see women willing to go through the most agonizing procedures just for the
privilege
—and that’s what it is—of having a kid. And here you are, in perfect health, abdicating the opportunity that other women would kill for. When I come home and little Heather runs to hug me, I feel incredibly blessed.”
“Are you sure there’s no ego involved?” she suggested. “Don’t you maybe think your patients would get a psychological boost from knowing you had lots of children?”
“One child is not
lots,
” he barked, losing his temper.
“Well, that’s what you say now. But if we came up with another girl, I’m sure you’d want to keep trying until we had a boy.”
“To be honest, maybe I would. It’s hardly an unnatural urge.”
“All right,” she replied, on the verge of losing her temper. “While we’re having this argument, let’s get all the unpleasantness out in the open. I would never have let you call him Max. That’s what you’d want, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” he lied. And then added, tantalizing, “We could always call him Thomas—or even ‘Little Boss.’ ”
To his surprise, she was not enticed.
“Well,” Toni remarked with exasperation, “for once you and my father agree on something. But I refuse to be double-teamed. Whatever you’d call him—the baby still wouldn’t sleep through the night for at least two years, and I’m not prepared to go through that again.”
She was crushing his dreams with the recklessness of someone deliberately stamping on delicate glass.
Adam sat silent for a moment, inwardly bruised, then almost involuntarily murmured, “I never expected this.”
“You mean you regret marrying me?” she asked bluntly.
“Of course not,” he protested. “It’s just going to become another dream I’ll have to file under ‘impossible’—along with my Olympic gold medal in the high board.”
Toni saw the growing rift between them and, to counteract it, put her arms around him affectionately and stroked his ego.
“You forget something, darling. You’re still a bit of a child yourself and you need a lot of mothering. I hitched my wagon to a star. I want to take good care of my boy genius so he can win the Nobel Prize. I promise you, we’re doing the right thing.”
As Heather grew older, her mother worked longer and longer hours, leaving Adam to make sure his daughter wasn’t abandoned to the care of Toni’s vast network of baby-sitters.
There were times when he simply could not bear to leave the house even when Heather was asleep, lest she wake up with a nightmare and be comforted—or worse, neglected—by a paid surrogate.
To his daughter’s delight, he would put warm winter clothing over her pajamas and take her along to the lab, where she would nestle up on the couch with her Kermit the frog, covered in a blanket, and sleep peacefully until the awkward moment when he had to wake her up, and bring her home.
Adam actually grew to enjoy this routine, since it was far more inspiring to be able to look at his little daughter than wonder how she was.
There were, however, occasions when he was called out to emergencies and had to phone Toni and insist that she hurry home to take charge.
One evening she was in the midst of a crucial partners’ meeting and was extremely reluctant to leave. “Adam,” she complained when he phoned her. “When will you realize that you’re not the only surgeon in the world? You could hand the job over to somebody else.”
To which he retorted in a flash of anger, “And when will you realize that a
mother
can’t?”
He joined the local country club and took Heather every Saturday morning to a class at the warm indoor pool where parents and their little children went into the water together to learn the intricacies of the doggie paddle.
She was an apt pupil, fiercely determined
privilege
—and that’s what it is—of having a kid. And here you are, in perfect health, abdicating the opportunity that other women would kill for. When I come home and little Heather runs to hug me, I feel incredibly blessed.”
“Are you sure there’s no ego involved?” she suggested. “Don’t you maybe think your patients would get a psychological boost from knowing you had lots of children?”
“One child is not
lots,
” he barked, losing his temper.
“Well, that’s what you say now. But if we came up with another girl, I’m sure you’d want to keep trying until we had a boy.”
“To be honest, maybe I would. It’s hardly an unnatural urge.”
“All right,” she replied, on the verge of losing her temper. “While we’re having this argument, let’s get all the unpleasantness out in the open. I would never have let you call him Max. That’s what you’d want, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” he lied. And then added, tantalizing, “We could always call him Thomas—or even ‘Little Boss.’ ”
To his surprise, she was not enticed.
“Well,” Toni remarked with exasperation, “for once you and my father agree on something. But I refuse to be double-teamed. Whatever you’d call him—the baby still wouldn’t sleep through the night for at least two years, and I’m not prepared to go through that again.”
She was crushing his dreams with the recklessness of someone deliberately stamping on delicate glass.
Adam sat silent for a moment, inwardly bruised, then almost involuntarily murmured, “I never expected this.”
“You mean you regret marrying me?” she asked bluntly.
“Of course not,” he protested. “It’s just going to become another dream I’ll have to file under ‘impossible’—along with my Olympic gold medal in the high board.”
Toni saw the growing rift between them and, to counteract it, put her arms around him affectionately and stroked his ego.
“You forget something, darling. You’re still a bit of a child yourself and you need a lot of mothering. I hitched my wagon to a star. I want to take good care of my boy genius so he can win the Nobel Prize. I promise you, we’re doing the right thing.”
As Heather grew older, her mother worked longer and longer hours, leaving Adam to make sure his daughter wasn’t abandoned to the care of Toni’s vast network of baby-sitters.
There were times when he simply could not bear to leave the house even when Heather was asleep, lest she wake up with a nightmare and be comforted—or worse, neglected—by a paid surrogate.
To his daughter’s delight, he would put warm winter clothing over her pajamas and take her along to the lab, where she would nestle up on the couch with her Kermit the frog, covered in a blanket, and sleep peacefully until the awkward moment when he had to wake her up, and bring her home.
Adam actually grew to enjoy this routine, since it was far more inspiring to be able to look at his little daughter than wonder how she was.
There were, however, occasions when he was called out to emergencies and had to phone Toni and insist that she hurry home to take charge.
One evening she was in the midst of a crucial partners’ meeting and was extremely reluctant to leave. “Adam,” she complained when he phoned her. “When will you realize that you’re not the only surgeon in the world? You could hand the job over to somebody else.”
To which he retorted in a flash of anger, “And when will you realize that a
mother
can’t?”
He joined the local country club and took Heather every Saturday morning to a class at the warm indoor pool where parents and their little children went into the water together to learn the intricacies of the doggie paddle.
She was an apt pupil, fiercely determined
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